


Raspberries

by dayinthelife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayinthelife/pseuds/dayinthelife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the asoiafkinkmeme. Prompt: Bran/Jojen, first kiss.</p><p>“Bran…Bran, come back,” a far off voice calls to him, and it’s enough to pull him out of Summer and back into his own crippled body. He opens his eyes and finds Jojen kneeling beside him, his hand on Bran’s arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raspberries

Brandon Stark closes his eyes and breathes deep. The day is clear and unusually warm; the sun shines brightly and a light breeze ruffles his hair, the caress of the last remnants of a long summer before autumn descends upon them completely. He sits alone beneath an ancient oak, its leaves still clinging to its branches, and finds himself in want of company, if only to enjoy what is probably the last warm day they will see before reaching the Wall (he doesn’t want to think about how cold it will be beyond, not yet). But Meera has taken her spear and net and disappeared into the woods and Jojen has gone off to forage as well. Even Hodor is beyond his sight, although Bran can hear him humming tunelessly as he washes himself in a nearby stream. With a sigh, Bran slips from his broken body and into Summer’s skin; he’s gotten better at it since they began their journey north and the change is almost effortless. 

He is in Summer now, loping through a glade, swift and surefooted, and the scent of stag hangs fresh in the air. His lifts his head and howls, boy and wolf as one feeling free and indomitable and alive. A branch snaps beyond the trees to his left; his ears prick and he follows the sound, stalking through the brambles on silent paws. The stag dashes nervously ahead of him and he breaks into a run, saliva beginning to pool in his mouth as he starts to close the distance between himself and his prey.

“Bran…Bran, come back,” a far off voice calls to him, and it’s enough to pull him out of Summer and back into his own crippled body. He opens his eyes and finds Jojen kneeling beside him, his hand on Bran’s arm.

“You shouldn’t do that, go into Summer while you’re alone,” he says solemnly, regarding him with mossy green eyes. Bran feels heat rising to his cheeks and frowns. 

“I’m not a baby, I was fine. Besides, Hodor isn’t far,” he says somewhat bitterly. He is thirteen, almost a man grown, but the Reeds still insist that he has to be looked after as if he were Rickon’s age. Jojen only gives him a small smile, then picks up a small weaved basket from the ground beside him.

“I found these, “ he says, offering the basket to Bran. Inside there are a dozen raspberries, squashy and overripe. Bran shakes his head, but Jojen pushes the basket into his hands. “You need to eat. Please?” 

Bran wants to protest but relents and takes a raspberry. “You need to eat too,” he says, picking another and putting it to Jojen’s lips without thinking. His mouth brushes Bran’s purple stained fingertips and he feels his stomach flutter stupidly as Jojen swallows. 

“We worry about you. I worry about you, my prince,” Jojen says softly, leaning forward and letting his lips graze Bran’s cheek. The fluttering feeling in Bran’s stomach blooms upward into his chest now, and his face feels hot where Jojen is touching him.

“I’m not a prince,” he whispers. _Not anymore._

“You are _my_ prince,” Jojen responds, his hand coming up to cup Bran’s jaw as he kisses him properly. His lips are chapped but soft against Bran’s own and he tastes of raspberries, sweet and sticky. After a few moments Jojen leans back, fixing his green eyes on Bran in a way that makes him shiver pleasantly, and Bran offers a shy smile as Jojen threads his fingers through his own. Perhaps he could manage with the cold beyond the Wall after all.


End file.
